


Jagged Pieces Still Interlock

by ChloeWeird, SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Co-Authored Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Secret Relationship, The Sheriff's Name is John I don't care what anyone says, Underage - Freeform, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWeird/pseuds/ChloeWeird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: For six years, Derek and Stiles have been the best of friends. Or, at least, that's what they've let everyone they love believe. But on the eve of Talia Hale and John Stilinski's wedding, secrets come to light and relationships are tested to their breaking point.





	Jagged Pieces Still Interlock

**Author's Note:**

> After years of cheering each other on, SylvieW and I have finally written something together! No attempt was made to mesh our writing styles, though, so hopefully it's a cohesive project despite that. Stiles POV was written by SylvieW. Outsider POV was written by ChloeWeird (Me). 
> 
> Thanks, Sylvie, for letting me hop on board your awesome idea. -- Chloe
> 
> Warning: Sterek relationship starts before Stiles turns 18.

*******

When Stiles had been a freshman making his first plane trip to Boston with Lydia to start their college careers, he'd thought airports were fantastic places filled with exciting people and infinite possibilities. 

Now, after four years of dragging himself across the country every holiday, airports had lost their magic. The food was always stale, the crowds too thick, and they smelled grey. Stiles wasn’t even sure what grey smelled like except maybe overly clean.

Stiles usually preferred to only travel with a carry-on, but since he was moving home permanently, he needed to pack enough to last him while the rest of his worldly possessions were shipped across the country. He joined the rest of the people waiting for their bags and tried not to look at the conveyer belt in case the motion made him puke. He’d been on a plane since 3 am in Boston, and regardless of his experience flying, he hadn’t managed to fall asleep for more than a couple minutes at a time. He didn’t even know what time it was in California, he just knew he was tired, nauseated, and sick of people bumping into him.

Finally retrieving his suitcases, he struggled to wheel them both toward the exit. His dad had offered to come in to help him carry them, but they’d learned from experience that it was foolhardy to try and park near the gate and leave your vehicle. It wasn’t so bad to trudge to the short term parking when Stiles only had a carry on, but today it felt like a hundred miles in the desert. 

“It’s only May,” Stiles muttered, tugging at his jacket. He’d been freezing all night on the plane, but now he was roasting in the concrete parking garage. Was it worth it to stop and take off his jacket? He’d be fine if it wasn’t much farther to the car, but it could be another--

“Stiles!”

Stiles' head shot up, and his stomach shivered at the sound of the familiar voice. His suitcase clattered to the ground as he ran to hug Derek. The stale scent of airport was replaced with the familiar mix of laundry detergent, body wash, and sweat: Home.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” the Sheriff said, elbowing Derek out of the way so he could wrap Stiles in a bear hug of his own. “Welcome home, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Stiles blamed his exhaustion for the way his eyes stung. 

Derek retrieved Stiles' suitcases from where he’d abandoned them on the parking garage floor and loaded them into the back of Laura’s SUV.

“I thought just Dad would be coming,” Stiles said as they loaded up his belongings and got in the car.

“Derek thought I might like company for the early ride,” the Sheriff explained. “Laura was nice enough to lend us her spacious vehicle, but declined the early morning.”

Stiles snorted. “Given the choice, I’d decline too.”

He answered their questions about his flight and about the process of packing up his apartment as they raced down the highway toward Beacon Hills. Stiles got all the updates on life that he’d missed during his hectic exam week.

When they hit Beacon Hills’ welcome sign, the Sheriff said. “Now, Derek, you’re sure it’s alright that Stiles is staying with you?”

Stiles turned in his seat to share a look with Derek, who rolled his eyes. “Yes, John. Just like I was for spring break, and Christmas, and all of last summer.”

“I know, I know,” the Sheriff said. “I know you like your space though, I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to take Stiles in just because he’s going to be your step-brother.”

“I really don’t mind,” Derek said. “There’s plenty of room.”

“Alright.” The Sheriff slid his serious gaze to Stiles. “How about you? You’re okay staying with Derek? Because I could clean out your old room for you.”

“No thanks, Dad, I’ll happily take Derek’s place over staying with you two love birds,” Stiles teased.

His dad gave an embarrassed but pleased guffaw. “Stiles, I’m too old to be a lovebird.”

Stiles gave him flat look. “Dad. You’re getting married in a matter of weeks. Days really. In June, no less, the most romantic wedding month of all. I’ve seen you and Talia look at each other, love birds is more than accurate.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “What can I say? She’s a hell of a woman.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Stiles said. “I’m glad you’re happy, Dad.”

“Thanks, Stiles, that means a lot,” John said. “I’ll be happy when the day finally gets here. We’ve spent so much time with florists and caterers and tailors and decorators and DJs--”

“As if Talia doesn’t have it all planned out,” Stiles teased. “All you have to do is show up.”

“Yes, but sometimes they want _opinions_.” The Sheriff shuddered dramatically and Stiles shoved his shoulder.

“You couldn’t be happier,” Stiles said.

“Damn straight.” The Sheriff gestured to the trees around them. “I still remember the first time you introduced me to Talia out here. I guess it’s a good thing you two hit it off, or I’d never have met her.”

“Yep,” Stiles said, glancing back at Derek. These woods had always been a part of Stiles’ childhood, but he felt like he knew them even better after volunteering to clean the preserve a few years ago. He looked forward to seeing them more than almost any other part of Beacon Hills, because more than almost anywhere else, these woods meant home. He had new memories now that he'd never expected to make out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees

The Sheriff chuckled. “I bet you never thought you’d be step-brothers when you met way back then.”

“Sure didn’t,” Derek agreed. 

After a lazy turn, the trees parted and the house came into view.

“Welcome home,” Derek said in Stiles’ ear. “It’s good to have you back.”

Stiles looked at the house and wholeheartedly agreed. 

***

Laura bounded up the stairs to the house like she always did, then stopped at the top of them. It was incredibly strange to see her childhood home, so much the same, and yet different. 

The stain on the wraparound porch was a different colour. It was new, still smelled a bit of the varnish, and it matched the door Derek had picked to replace the old one that squeaked and stuck if it was opened too far. It looked nice. She could acknowledge that while still feeling the pang of nostalgia for the cherry-red wood her mother sanded and re-stained every year all by herself. It wasn't a lasting feeling, because it wasn't as if the porch was gone, or the house was changed that much with the new owner. 

Derek would take care of it, just like he'd taken care of his childhood bike, his five-year-old cellphone, and his mother and sisters.

And one thing would always stay the same, she thought as she shook off her reflective mood. The front door would always be unlocked if someone was home. 

"Hello!" Laura called after she let herself in and closed the door behind her. Her heels clicked along the hardwood floors in the hallway. “I couldn’t wait to welcome you back so I--

Warm afternoon sun streamed through the big windows onto the rug in the centre of the living room, washing everything in its path a gold-tinged white...including her almost step-brother's skin. 

"Oh, my god." 

Stiles was on his back, his spread legs hitched up onto Derek's kneeling thighs, his back arched, into what would have been Derek's mouth, but Derek had already seen her and frozen, his eyes going wide and panicked. Stiles' head fell back and he looked at her upside-down, then they both scrambled to disentangle themselves as her brain came back online. 

"Oh, my god, _why are you naked_?" Laura shrieked. 

They were up off the floor in seconds, scrambling for their discarded clothes while Laura's mind whirled as she processed what exactly she was seeing. 

“Derek, why the hell are you in your underwear?” Laura demanded, but she knew perfectly well. “Jesus, is that a hickey?”

Stiles looked down to where she was looking, then clapped a hand over the tell-tale red and shiny mark over his hipbone. Even if she could somehow trick herself into believing that her brothers had been naked wrestling, there was no way that she could call _that_ just a bruise. Not when it was that close to the waistband of Stiles' boxers, and surrounded by obvious teeth marks.

"What the fuck is going on?" Laura groaned, pressing her palms into her eyes to try and block out the images of Derek above Stiles, overlaid with memories of the two of them chasing each other around the backyard of this house, both of them past their teens but acting like children. Like _brothers._

“Laura. Please calm down.” 

Derek's voice was much closer to her than before. She uncovered her eyes and blinked away the spots in her vision. A hysterical laugh bubbled up, because despite his words, Derek looked anything but calm. 

“You were having sex,” Laura hissed.

She expected them to deny it. Hell, she wanted them to. She'd literally seen them going at it, but she would have been ready and willing to believe that her eyes had been tricking her if they'd protested and explained, _No, you're wrong! Stiles was choking, you just saw him get the Heimlich maneuver! In his underwear!_

There was only damning silence as Stiles and Derek looked at each other, did that thing where they read each other's minds, then looked back at her, guilt in every inch of their faces. 

"Derek?" Laura pleaded, not even sure what she was asking for. The last five minutes of her life back, maybe? 

“It’s not as big of a deal as you think,” Derek said, pulling on the hem of his T-shirt to make sure it was covering him. _Too late for that, bro_ , she wanted to tell him. 

"Not a big deal,” she said instead, and suddenly, the purse over her arm was flying out of her hand into Derek's chest, where he caught it with a quiet _oof_. “Our parents are getting married in two weeks! How is this not a big deal? You're fucking your step-brother!”

Her stomach twisted as she said the words aloud for the first time. They were family, and had been for years. Stiles had been nearly an adult by the time they blended their lonely herds, but the practice she'd had as a big sister made her feel protective of him almost instantly. She couldn't imagine seeing him in _that way_ any more than she could her biological brother. She'd thought Derek felt the same way. Apparently, she'd been wrong. 

Everything was wrong.

"How could you do this?" Laura choked. 

She pushed down a pang of guilt when she saw Derek's shoulders curl in with the hurt of her words. Stiles seemed to wake up from his stupor and he stepped closer, his hand swiping across Derek's back to settle there comfortably, like he'd done it a thousand times. He _had_ done it a thousand times. She'd seen it. Stiles' tendency to touch was a part of him, like his fast talking and his encyclopedic brain. She tried to remember, to play back every one of his casual touches in her head, to see if she could pinpoint when those touches had turned from brotherly to carnal. She couldn't do it. Even looking at them now, they were just the same. 

“Laura,” Stiles said, soothingly like Derek, but she could see his fingers trembling where they peeked over Derek's shoulder. "It's not--"

"Did you even stop and think for one second about what this will do to our family?" Her voice shook like Stiles' fingers, but she didn't stop. She just dug the wound deeper. "Why did you even start it? I never thought either of you was the type who were so desperate for a fuck that you'd do it with the last person you should have." 

Neither of them would meet her eyes. She was glad about that, because if they had, the angry tears she could feel threatening would probably have spilled over. As it was, she could focus on just the anger, not any of the other things. 

"What happens when the novelty wears off, huh? What will you do when you want to go back to being brothers?" Derek's mouth twitched and he looked like he wanted to say something, but she wasn't finished. "You can't. You ruined it. And for what? I hope it was fucking worth it."

She realized her fists were clenched so hard that her nails were digging marks into her palms. As she relaxed them, she could hear the echoes of her voice coming back to her, and it made her feel sick to her stomach. 

She sounded like their father when she spit poison like this. 

"You have it wrong," Derek said, quietly but with conviction. "It isn't like that." 

She laughed, but she didn't feel anything. She was tired and wanted this conversation to be over. "Oh, it isn't? You want to tell me that this isn't some forbidden fruit thing?"

Derek's throat bobbed and Laura hated herself for being the cause of his misery more than she hated him--them--for their terrible mistake. (She didn't hate them. It just felt like it.) 

"No, Laura," Derek said. "We wouldn't--It's not--"

"It's love," Stiles said. 

The anger drained out of her at the sight of Stiles' earnest face. All that was left was sadness. "You think that now," she conceded. "Maybe it seems romantic now, some kind of screwed up Romeo and Juliet thing--"

"More like Cersei and Jaime Lannister, really."

"Okay, first of all, ew. Don't ever say that again." 

"Sorry." 

"Second, do you really think this is going to last long enough to make it worth it?" 

Stiles' expression didn't flicker. He didn't even stop to think about it before he answered, "Yes, actually," like there was no other truth but the one he spoke. 

"How can you know that?" Laura asked, feeling like she was a hundred years old, with all the cynicism that came with that age. "When this implodes, it will rip this family apart, all for a flash in the pan--"

"It's already lasted six years. As of March, I think, but that depends on where you start counting from."

Laura blinked, her brain stalling out for the second time that day. “What?”

Stiles slipped his hand into Derek's lacing their fingers. “Well, if you count how long we’ve been dating, then it’s at least six years, but if you only go by when we first had sex, it’s more like five and a half.” 

Had they always stood so close? Right in each other's pockets, even though there was plenty of space around them? Yes, she realized. Always. She'd never thought anything of it because they were friends, as inseparable as brothers. Or not. 

“This isn’t something new that we _just_ decided to take a risk on," Stiles told her. "We’ve been together almost as long as we’ve known each other.”

"How is that possible?" Laura asked, as if falling in love with the wrong person was as difficult as winning a war, even though she knew better than that. "You met at the preserve clean-up, then Mom met John. Everyone knows that. I was there for all of it, I saw you become friends. There was nothing more--"

Stiles' face was grim. "You saw what you wanted to see. What _we_ wanted you to see." 

"Why sneak around like this, though? Why didn’t you say anything from the beginning? If you were together before they were ever a thing, they would have understood. We all would have. Was it about them?"

Stiles and Derek had come out to John and Talia together, sitting them down and standing as a united front as they explained that they both liked both. Neither of them had ever minded that their respective sons could just as easily come home with a boyfriend as a girlfriend. 

Stiles looked at Derek again, then after a silent moment said, hesitantly, "Yes, it was about them. In a way. Think about it, Laura. Really _think_. What possible reason could we have for hiding our _six-year_ relationship?"

He looked at Laura like she was missing one essential piece of the puzzle, that would make the picture before crystal clear. When she realized what he was getting at, she saw he completely right. 

"You were 16," she said, quietly. "Derek was…"

"22," Derek confirmed, solemnly. "An adult." 

Stiles flexed his hand in Derek's grip and brushed his cheek on Derek's shoulder in a casual display of intimacy. "And I wasn't, in the eyes of the law. We waited until I was 17 before we did anything more than dating, but we didn't make it until I was 18." 

Laura understood perfectly now. "John would have…" 

Stiles nodded. "He probably would have arrested Derek. He'd never make anything stick because I'd lie my ass off to anyone who would listen. But he'd know, and he'd tell your mother. And anyone he told who trusted his judgement over the decision of the courts would never look at Derek the same way."

She raised her eyebrow, and the last sliver of bitterness she felt over this whole mess put words in her mouth before she could stop them. "You've certainly gotten a lot of practice in keeping the truth from people."

They both had the grace to wince, but only Stiles had a response. "I know. I wish we could've just fudged the truth and said we didn't start dating until I was legal, but he'd know, somehow. I couldn't lie to him outright like that and get away with it. I can keep things quiet, and lie by omission, but if he ever asked me straight to tell him when we started sleeping together? I'd be done for."

Laura suddenly felt exhausted. She walked over to the couch and sank down into it, staring down at her hands on her knees. They allowed her a few minutes of quiet, which she appreciated more than she could say. Sitting on her mother's couch which was left in the house when Derek bought it, as a housewarming gift, she let go of her knee-jerk reaction, and tried to see these two boys--men now, actually, though it was hard to fathom--as they were, not as she'd always thought they were. 

When taken outside of the context of best friends/almost brothers, it was easy to see how they fit together. A part of her still cringed away from imagining them together like that--that would never change, because no matter what they were to each other, they would always be her brothers--but she thought she could move beyond that. She had to. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a long while. "I said some things just now that I shouldn't have. I know you both better than to think so poorly of you. You love us as much as we love you. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Derek said. He looked like he wanted to sit next to her and hug her, but he evidently wanted to keep holding Stiles' hand more. Laura found that she didn't mind. "A lot of what you said was true. We've been keeping secrets from everyone." 

She shook her head. "I get it. I don't know what I would have done differently in your place." She sighed long and hard, releasing some of the tension that had crept into her shoulders. "But for six years? God."

Stiles rubbed his hand over the back of his head, looking chagrined and not as panicked as he had before."We both hoped it would go just the way you said. We'd get tired of each other, and we could go back to being friends. It'd be awkward, but it would be better than trying to tell our parents that we'd been lying to them for years already. We waited for it to fizzle out, but it never did." He shrugged. "The distance was difficult, but it didn’t change the way we felt. I love Derek. He’s my forever guy.”

Derek turned and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, resting his forehead against Stiles' temple. "And now we're stuck, because my mom and his dad are about to get married, and no matter what we do, everyone is going to react the way you just did." 

Guilt twisted in her belly, but she pushed it aside. Nothing could change the last 15 minutes, and how she'd reacted, but she could at least try to help after the fact.

"You should still tell them," she said. "I never saw it before, but I know you both well enough to know how much it bothers you." 

Derek nodded. "We will. We'll need to say something sooner rather than later, since Stiles has no intention of looking for his own place. But not yet." 

"Okay." She got to her feet, feeling every one of the months she'd been alive. Only about 24 more than Derek, but it was enough to make her feel wise. She went over to them and hugged each of them, Stiles first, then Derek. "I'm leaving now. I was going to take you out for a welcome home drink, but my need for alcohol right now is too big for a social setting." 

Derek grimaced. "I'm sorry, we never--"

"It's fine. It's not your fault. I'm not mad, I just need to go and rearrange my brain so that it stops seeing you two going at it every time I close my eyes. Okay?"

"Okay," Derek said, hugging her again. 

"I'm happy for you, you know," she said into Derek's neck, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. "I always thought you were alone, but all this time, you've had each other." She pulled back and ran her thumbs across Derek's scruff, the almost-beard she'd made fun of for months when he'd grown it out at the end of his high school days. "I think Mom and John will be happy for you too. Eventually. You just have to give them time." 

"Comforting," Stiles said, sardonically, but he'd never been naive. That's what she'd always liked about him: His fascinating premature worldliness. 

"Honesty," she corrected. "I'll see you later, bros." 

With another hug for Stiles and a final goodbye, she closed the new door, the one that didn't squeak anymore, then got in her car. 

_Change_ , she mused. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it was bad, but mostly, it happened while you weren't looking, so you never knew it happened until suddenly, everything was different. 

_But not bad_ , she thought, smiling as she pulled out of the long driveway. 

***

Stiles crawled onto the couch where Laura had sat, curling into the corner. This was his favourite spot in the living room. On the nights that their whole family gathered, everyone had a place they claimed as theirs, and this corner of the couch had belonged to Stiles since his senior year of high school.

He liked it better when Derek was sitting next to him though.

“Come ’ere.” Stiles held up his arms and made grabby hands at Derek. He ignored Derek’s eye roll, because as much as Derek pretended to be above such things, he settled into Stiles’ side like he belonged there. And he did. They were a perfect fit.

“Well, that was…” Derek started.

“Awful,” Stiles said. “Truly terrible.”

“It could have gone better,” Derek agreed, with a grim expression. “We’re going to have to tell them soon.

Stiles had had this conversation with Derek a dozen times, but it wasn’t that simple. His dad was the sheriff of Beacon Hills for Christ's sake. He had never been the type to look the other way, and he was sure to be upset that an illegal activity had been happening right under his nose. Knowing that Stiles had lied to him could permanently damage their relationship.

“I know,” Stiles said. “It’s different now that I’m finished in Boston.”

“We could go now,” Derek said quietly. “Just get it done.”

“I can’t-- I’m not--” Stiles sputtered. The inevitable confrontation with his dad stood out in his mind as a terrifying encounter, but the thought of telling the rest of the family wasn’t that far behind it. When Stiles was in high school, he’d deeply felt the loss of his mother still, and the distance between him and any family besides his father. Now Talia was a second mother to him and upsetting her would hurt just as much as if they were blood. He was shocked that Laura was willing to forgive them so easily, and he was scared to hope that Cora would be the same. 

“Alright,” Derek said, smiling sadly up at him. “Not yet.”

“The wedding,” Stiles told him, grasping for some legitimate reason to put it off besides _I'm too much of a coward._ “Everyone is busy with the wedding. There are so many details and everyone is stressed out as it is. Let’s just get through that first.” Derek looked a little dubious. “Please, let’s just wait until they get home from their honeymoon, then I’ll tell them. I promise.”

Derek squeezed his thigh. “ _We’ll tell him_. He’s more of a father to me than my own, now. I want to do it together. Maybe he’ll understand.”

Stiles wanted to say that of course he would. Like Derek had said, Stiles might be his biological son, but he’d accepted Derek emotionally years ago. He didn’t want to ruin the happiness they had, but he couldn’t keep this secret forever. They were ready to start a life together, and it would never be what they wanted if they were hiding it from the most important people in their lives.

Instead of a false platitude, Stiles said, “Maybe.” He just hoped it didn’t go as badly as he’d imagined.

“It’s nice that she knows,” Derek said, burrowing further into Stiles’ chest. Stiles looked down at him with his heart so full it ached. “Laura, I mean. And I know she didn’t react that well at first but…she came around.”

“Yeah.” It was the best they could hope for, really. If everyone reacted like Laura, he could live with it. As long as they also forgave the way she had.

***

John sat down behind his desk and sighed, sinking into his fancy lumbar supportive chair. Or at least, he _tried_ to sink in. The thing was damned uncomfortable for a chair that was supposed to be the height of ergonomics. He missed his old one, with its cracked leather, wonky wheels, and pumpkin-y colour. It'd been solid. Dependable, until it suddenly wasn't, and his son had so helpfully suggested--read: demanded--he try an expensive one. 

He sighed again, cracked his neck and sat up. He didn't have a long enough lunch break to spend it reminiscing over a chair that'd been in a landfill for over a year. 

From the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out the cooler that held his lunch hostage. Another expensive gadget that wasn't worth the money Stiles had shelled out to get it for him for Christmas. Every time he used the thing he had to remember how to open it, because it couldn't be as simple as opening the lid. No, it had to have a slide-y doodad and a top that required two hands to lift. He didn't even have much of anything to eat. 

Normally, he didn't even bother bringing it with him. With Stiles home, though, and unemployed until he settled back into Beacon Hills, he'd had lunch lovingly prepared for him and dropped off at the station every day for the past week. It was thoughtful. He appreciated it. But the bottom line was he didn't like having a big meal in the middle of the day, so he always asked Stiles to pack light. Always. But of course, Stiles rarely listened, insisting that it wasn't healthy for him to have such a high stress job and not eat regularly throughout the day. It was hard to argue with someone who cared that much about the well-being of their only surviving parent. Not that John didn't try. He just always lost, because if there was something Stiles was better at than worrying about John, it was arguing. 

John thought he might have won that morning's battle, though, because the fancy lunch box seemed lighter than normal. He struggled to open it, yet again, but managed, even though he spent a few precious seconds of his break longing for the days of plastic bags held closed by a good tight knot. 

He looked into the box and blinked, then pulled out its contents. He set the items on the desk and stared at them, uncomprehending, for another long minute, then he reached for the phone on the desk. He was still staring at them while it rang, and when Stiles picked up. 

"Dad?"

"Hey, son."

"You on your break?"

"Yep, and I'm sitting down, just like you told me to."

"Good. The doctor would be--"

"Yes, I know what the doctor would think. I'm fine. Listen, I think you might've forgotten something in my lunch today. It seems a little..." He looked down at the desk and frowned. "Sparse."

"Oh? I was in a bit of a rush this morning, since Derek was--Well, never mind. But I thought I had everything together. What did I pack?"

"A whole avocado and a packet of low-sodium soy sauce." He peered into the lunch box to double check. "And a plastic spoon."

"Nope, that's everything," Stiles said. 

"Really." 

"Yep." 

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know I said to pack light, son, but how does that constitute a meal?" 

"Dad. You live in California where a vast array of fantastic fruits and vegetables are available to you, basically in your backyard. Could you be a little more open minded?" 

"The sticker says it's from Mexico," John said, then immediately regretted it, because he could hear Stiles's unamused expression across the phone line. 

"Avocado is delicious. You'll enjoy it. Be grateful that I gave you soy sauce." Someone shouted on Stiles's end of the line. "My lunch is almost ready, Dad, I gotta go." 

"And do you get to eat real food, or do you have to eat a mushy green turd for lunch?" 

"I'll see you later, Dad. Dinner is lasagna."

"Oh?"

"The vegetable kind." 

"Oh." 

Stiles hung up. John rubbed his temples for a while, then reached into his desk for the bag of mini Snickers bars that Stiles didn't know about. There was a time and place for trying new things, he decided, and his precious 30 minute lunch break was not that time. 

He unwrapped the first candy bar and had it halfway to his mouth before he caught sight of the picture on his desk. It was a recent one, from spring break of last year, framed and given to him as a gift from Talia. She was always thoughtful like that. 

In the photo, she and John sat on the couch in their living room, looking down and smiling indulgently at Derek and Stiles, who were sitting on the floor with their arms across each other shoulders, a doomed 500 piece puzzle scattered across the carpet. John was still finding pieces of that thing between his toes. 

Stiles had thought it was a good idea, and when Stiles got an idea into his head, there were few who could stop him. And since his son had started walking, John had only managed it couple of times. But despite the failed attempt at a group activity, that day was one of the best of Stiles' too short vacation. He loved that picture. It never moved from its place of honour, between the portraits of Claudia and Talia. 

John sighed again and put the Snickers down. Maybe avocados weren't so bad.

***

“What’s the name of the restaurant?” Stiles shouted across the parking lot of the wedding venue.

Wedding rehearsals were apparently stressful for grooms, because the Sheriff was racing out of there like the devil was on his heels. “I don’t know, Talia picked it. Le Monte--something. It's French. Just follow us.”

Stiles turned back to Laura and Derek and rolled his eyes. “Right, because no one’s ever gotten lost doing that.”

Laura laughed as they piled into her SUV. Stiles and Derek fought over the front seat briefly before Derek won, relegating Stiles to the back. “It’s fine, Mom will text us the address if we take too long.” 

Stiles decided Laura was probably right. Talia was on top of things like that. He settled in for the ride through Beacon City. “How far is it?”

“Don’t know,” Laura said with a shrug. “Feels like it takes longer to get anywhere in the City.”

“Only compared to the complete lack of traffic in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said. “Try Boston. This is nothing.”

Stiles was born and raised in Beacon Hills, but Beacon City was so close by, he’d spent his fair share of time there. Especially considering he didn’t really want to be seen out on dates with his boyfriend. The farther away from the wedding venue they got, the more familiar the streets looked, and Stiles got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Derek?”

“Hmm?” Derek broke off from complaining bitterly with Laura about their cousin Horace’s pompous attitude.

Stiles looked anxiously out at the passing streets. “You don’t think Dad meant Le Montmartre, do you?”

“Oh,” Derek said, then again more alarmed. “Oh, shit.”

“Where is that?” Laura said.

“The French restaurant we go to every year for our anniversary, and a couple times in between,” Stiles said. “We went just last week since we missed it.”

“It’s probably a different one,” Derek said quickly.

Laura caught Stiles' eye in the mirror, her expression dubious. “Derek, how many high quality French restaurants do you think there are around here? Just because it’s bigger than home doesn’t mean it’s teeming with options.” 

“We’re fucked,” Stiles said, flopping back on his seat. “We’re completely fucked.”

“We are not,” Derek insisted. “Even if it is the same place, so what? They get _dozens_ of customers every day. They won’t remember.”

“Except the waitress we had last week with a mind like a steel trap who _otally remembered us_ ,” Stiles said with false cheer.

“Maybe she isn’t working?” Derek didn’t sound terribly hopeful.

“Fucked,” Stiles reiterated. “He’s gonna flip.”

“You’re overreacting,” Laura said calmly. “It probably isn’t even the same restaurant.” No sooner had the words left her mouth then their parents’ car turned into the parking lot of Le Montmartre.

Stiles let out a string of curses while Derek leaned forward to smack his head against the dashboard.

“Stop injuring my car.” Laura lightly hit Derek’s shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s a giant group. Even if the waitress is there, which she probably won’t be, why would she even say anything?”

Laura continued to claim that everything would work out as they disembarked from the car and went into the restaurant. Stiles wanted to touch Derek, hug him or hold his hand or _something_ , but they’d been doing this long enough they knew better than to take a risk like that. Instead, Stiles made a point of putting Laura in between them. 

The restaurant's hostess brought them back to the private party room where most of the wedding party were already gathered. They made a beeline for Cora so they could sit near her. Laura sat next to Cora and Derek beside her, so it only made sense that Stiles could sit with Derek. He took the opportunity to squeeze his hand under the tablecloth.

“What took you so long? I’ve been here forever,” Cora hissed at them.

“We were right behind you,” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

“I got stuck talking to Eugene,” Cora said in a low voice. All three Hale siblings gave the same disgusted groan. Stiles soothed his nerves by teasing them about their socially inept and opinionated cousin while the rest of the wedding party settled into seats around them.

The rehearsal had gone well and everyone was looking forward to the wedding the next day, so happy voices filled the room and laughter echoed as their close friends and family caught up. Talia was deep in conversation with her best friend from college who’d come all the way from Kentucky to be her Matron of Honour, and the Sheriff was chatting with his cousin in rusty Polish. 

The waitress kind of snuck up on them, when she came in to get their drink orders. “Wow, this is a happy group. What’s the occasion?”

Stiles heart sank and he recognized the perky blonde. She was a great waitress, and usually he loved having her as a server, but he was terrified to see her smiling face tonight.

“It’s a wedding,” the Sheriff said, slinging his arm affectionately over the back of Talia’s chair. “The rehearsal dinner.”

Jackie the perky waitress zeroed right in on Stiles and Derek. “Oh my gosh, you’re getting married! You didn’t say anything last week.”

“Pardon?” The Sheriff said, smile faltering a little.

Laura sputtered a bit, but couldn’t get anything out before Jackie continued.

“That is just so romantic,” she said, hand to her heart. “You know, I just love seeing repeat customers, I like to see how their story goes, but this just takes the cake. “I remember the first time you two walked in here. Gosh, it feels like it was yesterday, and now you’re back getting married. Time flies, you said it’s been what? Five years, six? That is just the sweetest thing.”

“I think you’re mistaken,” the Sheriff said, with a forced laugh. “Derek and Stiles aren’t together.”

Jackie giggled. “Of course they are! They were in just last week to…” She trailed off when she caught sight of Stiles, Derek, and Laura’s stricken faces. Stiles stomach felt heavy as lead. Panic started to show in her eyes. “I… I mean--”

“What were you here last week for, boys?” The Sheriff asked. Stiles hated the way his father could look so calm, so completely unflappable with no sign of what emotions he was really feeling.

“Our anniversary,” Stiles said hoarsely. His throat was so dry it felt like talking through a desert. He couldn’t look at Talia and pretended not to see the hurt surprise on her face.

“Your anniversary,” the Sheriff echoed. “And which is it Stiles? Five or six years?”

For a brief moment, Stiles considered lying. If he told his father it had been less time, then no one would know. No one except him, Derek, Laura, and Scott. Scott had kept their secret for six years, and he’d take it to the grave if Stiles asked him to. But he couldn’t do that to Laura and Derek. Laura was his sister, and he loved her. Derek was his everything, and he deserved not to have to lie anymore. “Six, Dad. It was our six year anniversary.”

The room was completely silent for a moment as John and Stiles stared at each other. 

“Isn’t that incest?” Eugene said, his mouth full of complimentary bread sticks.

“Shut the hell up, Eugene, they’re not biologically brothers,” Aunt Flora said.

“No, but they are 22 and 28,” the Sheriff said. “Gotta say, boys, I’m not liking the math here when you take six out of that.”

“Would you like five a little better?” Stiles said, and then winced as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Not particularly.” The Sheriff pushed his chair back and the scrape of it against the floor seemed loud as a shotgun in the tense room. “Hallway, now. Both of you.”

Stiles didn’t even consider hesitating. He dreaded how this conversation would go, but he couldn’t put it off and he sure as shit didn’t want to have it in front of their extended families and closest friends.

The restaurant's bathrooms were down a hallway that lead to an emergency exit. Stiles’ dad didn’t break stride until he’d reached that door. Stiles laced his hand with Derek’s as they came to a stop in front of him and tightened his grip when he saw his father’s eyes narrow looking at it.

“Now, just so we’re all perfectly clear here,” the Sheriff started. “You two have been together for six years?”

“Yes,” Stiles said quietly.

“When did this start?” Talia asked from behind them. Stiles was somewhat glad she’d followed them. He only wanted to disappoint his parents once, so they might as well do it at the same time.

“When we met that summer in the preserve,” Derek said. “We were never just friends.”

“So, this whole time, you’ve been going behind our backs,” the Sheriff said, advancing on Derek, his hand hovering over where his gun _would_ be. “I trusted you with my son, and this whole time--”

Stiles knew his father would never resort to physical violence, but he stepped between them anyway, if only to spare Derek an emotional blow. “We didn’t rush into it, Dad. This wasn’t a decision made lightly. I knew you wouldn’t approve--”

“You knew, and you did it anyway? Stiles, you were sixteen, and--”

“Seventeen--”

“That’s still not legal!” The Sheriff’s voice started to rise and he stopped himself, closing his eyes. “That kind of age difference is unacceptable, and you know that or you wouldn’t have felt the need to keep it a secret.”

“Maybe I felt the need to keep it a secret because I knew you would freak out like this.” Stiles whole body was shaking. His worst nightmare was coming to life, and he didn’t know how far it would go. 

“I’m freaking out because I just found out that a man I trusted took advantage of my son.” The Sheriff’s words caused Derek to physically flinch.

“We’re not talking about _a man_ , we're talking about Derek. Dad, you know him and you know he’d never hurt me.” Stiles knew that they should have waited, but he couldn’t believe that _anything_ between him and Derek had been wrong. Not when it was filled with as much love as they’d had. 

The Sheriff gave him a flat look. “I know who the hell we’re talking about Stiles, you’ve been _friends_ for years. God, the amount of times he’s been to our house, that I let him stay in your room. I guess it makes sense now why you’ve been spending school breaks with him. 'More space', my ass, you just figured it be easier to fool around behind my back if you weren’t in my house anymore.”

Stiles stared at the floor. There was nothing he could say to deny that. He’d wanted to stay with Derek, and it _had_ been easier to just be together when they didn’t have to worry about Stiles getting home before curfew or his dad noticing hickeys. But more than that, he’d wanted to stay with Derek so he could soak up as much time with him as possible.

“Goddammit, Stiles, I just…” The Sheriff shook his head and didn’t finish his sentence. He pushed on the emergency door instead and walked outside. 

Stiles started to go after him, but Talia’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back. “Let me.”

“Mom,” Derek started.

“I’m sorry, Derek, just give us some time,” Talia said, and followed her fiancé outside.

Stiles' knees felt weak and his eyes stung. Rather than hold himself up he braced his back against the wall.

Derek curled around him, a hand on his hip and a forearm braced next to Stiles’ head. He kissed his cheek and whispered, “I love you. I’m sorry,” until Stiles had the strength to say it back.

***

Talia knew she shouldn't have worn heels. She'd put them away and gotten them back out of the closet a dozen times before getting in the car to leave, and they looked as snazzy as she'd hoped, but they just weren't built for running across a pitted, uneven parking lot after a man who moved unfairly fast given that he was closer to 60 than 50. 

"John, wait," she called, ignoring the stares of the cooks taking their cigarette break in a doorway a few yards away. "Slow down, I don't want to have to wear a brace when I walk up the aisle tomorrow."

He didn't exactly go slower, but he did stop when he reached the cruiser, which probably wasn't going to be his final destination. When she reached his side, he was leaning against the side of the car, his arms stiff and straight in front of him, his head bent mulishly low. 

"Talia," he said, in a quiet, controlled voice. "I don't think I'm going to be good company right now. You should go back inside and try to salvage what's left of this evening." 

She shook her head and felt her earring jingle against her cheeks. "No way. Kim can do that, she knows the schedule almost as well as I do." She stepped closer, cautiously, placing her hand next to his on the car window. "I need to be here with you, so we can work this out."

"What the hell is there to work out?" John yelled, wheeling around to face her, his fist pounding once against the roof. 

Talia jumped. She wished she hadn't, as hard as she wished she hadn't clutched her hands to her chest like a heroine in a romance novel seconds away from a dead faint. She knew she didn't have to be scared of John, but she couldn't teach her body that now if it hadn't learned after six wonderful years. 

"I'm sorry," John said, immediately, with a third of the volume. He took her hands in his and patted them with enough force that they could both pretend that the other wasn't shaking at all. "So sorry. I apologize for yelling."

"It's fine," she said. "I know you didn't mean to."

They both took their time to get their cool back, John leaning against the cruiser again, Talia standing next to him in her unsensible, beautiful, terrible heels. 

"John," she said, carefully, when the thought of Stiles and Derek suffering inside the restaurant wouldn't let her be silent any more. "Will you talk to me about this?"

John let out a heavy breath, then turned to face her, his whole body stiff with anger and--she could tell, because she knew him as well as he knew her--hurt. 

"Tally, I love you," he said, as if this was ever in question. "But your son--" He broke off, 

"I know." 

"And my son."

Unable to hold back any longer, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, holding him tightly, even while he kept his arms rigid by his sides. "I know," she said again. 

"Did you know?" John murmured in her ear. "About them?"

There was no accusation in it. Just a question, which she hesitated to give the answer to. 

"I had my suspicions," she admitted. "I thought that perhaps one day they might discover they had feelings for each other that went beyond friendship. I never dreamed that it'd already happened. I never said anything because, selfishly, I hoped it'd never happen. I thought it'd be awfully complicated." 

John laughed bitterly and pulled away from her, gently, then turned and rested his back against the cruiser. 

"Yeah. It sure as hell is." 

Talia let him take his time. He was a man of few words, her John. She wasn't one for long-winded speeches either. She could speak for herself when needed, but she usually preferred not to. He'd told her about how Claudia had said enough for the both of them, and for a brief moment, she'd worried that he expected the same from her, but then he'd taken her hand and told her how much he appreciated a quiet companion, no matter how much he'd loved his first wife. 

That was when she'd stopped worrying about how she'd take Claudia's place. It was impossible, but also unnecessary. Claudia would always be part of John's life, but he had a big enough heart for the both of them, just as he had room for Talia's children as well as his own son. 

And that, perhaps, was what made this so difficult, she realized. 

"I don't care that they're both men," John said, finally. "You know I've never cared about that." 

"I do. They know that too." 

"What I care about is that…" His fists clenched at his sides. "They weren't both men. Stiles was just a kid, and Derek was definitely not. For God's sake, I was married at 21."

Talia cringed internally, but pointed out, "A lot of people said you were too young." 

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she only shrugged. She needed to stay as objective as possible, though it was incredibly difficult. John wasn't going to be angry at her for something her son had done, but she still felt like she needed to take Derek's part in this. She was just as shocked as John had been about the poor decisions their boys had made, but she hadn't been quite as broadsided as him, so she felt as if she had an advantage. Not much of one, but perhaps just enough that she could mend what was so suddenly broken. 

"That's true," he relented, but his whole body was still tense with indignation. "Christ. I wouldn't even be angry that they were together, if it'd happened now, or even a couple of years ago. But all that lying, from people I would never have expected it from. Do I even know who they are? What if they've both completely changed, and I haven't noticed because they were so busy keeping secrets?"

She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the cruiser, pinning him with a look. "John. That's ridiculous. Are you a completely different person because you started dating me? Do I not love the same man Claudia did, just with a little more wear and tear?" 

"Talia," he said, a bit of Stiles' wheedling whine in his voice, but he obviously saw the truth in what she'd said. That didn't mean all was forgiven. "The lying, though. All those years. I can't stand the thought of it." 

"Derek spent years thinking that he was the reason his father left."

John was so surprised at the abrupt change in topic that he almost slipped off the car. Talia wasn't really sorry about it. The truth bomb had served its purpose: At least for the moment, John had been shaken out of his angry victim mindset, back into the overprotective father figure one he usually occupied. 

"What?" 

"When Derek was about 17, he kissed a boy for the first time," she explained. "Just a few weeks after kissing his first girl, actually. A busy month. He didn't mention it to anyone for a while, then made a spur of the moment decision to tell his father first, instead of me or the girls."

"And how did that go?" John sounded uncharacteristically alarmed, for good reason. He knew as much about Talia's former husband as she knew about Claudia--for different reasons--and it provided all the context he needed.

"About as well as you'd think. Neither of them said a word to me about it, obviously. I only found out about this later, after Derek and Stiles came out to us. But Michael left for good a few days after Derek told him." She rubbed her bare arms, even though it wasn't cold at all. "It wasn't because of Derek. The timing was simply right for a few of our issues to suddenly come to a head, his bigotry being only one of them. But Derek spent the next few years believing that he was the reason why his sisters didn't have a father and I didn't have a husband."

"Huh." John stared at her hard, but didn't offer an opinion on the matter. 

"He asked me not to say anything to you about it. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he didn't want to put any pressure on you, if we hadn't worked out in the long run. He said he doesn't feel that guilt anymore, which is good."

"Of course." 

She looked toward the restaurant, where her child was no doubt still suffering. She had one comfort, though: He wasn't alone. Hadn't been since he was 22 years old and he'd met the best friend of his life. Or, she supposed, the _love_ of his life.

She took a deep breath and made the point she'd been circling around. "I think that if Stiles hadn't been there for him, he would've kept that part of himself a secret for his entire life."

John's lips firmed and he crossed his arms defensively, but Talia could see the crack in his bristling demeanor.

"I can see where you're going with this," he said. "It's saddening, there's no doubt about that, but I am not Michael Hale, and this is not the same situation as that was."

"I know that, and so does he. I just thought it might be easier for you to understand why they kept it from us for so long, even after Stiles was 18." 

"Apart from the threat of arrest, you mean?"

"Yes, apart from that." 

John huffed and shook his head, staring at the cracked asphalt instead of at her. That gave her hope. If he was still as righteously pissed off as he claimed, he'd disagree with her head-on, and no tearful confession would sway him. 

"I'm not making excuses for him," she said. "He was an adult who should have known better. It could have gone so wrong, if Stiles had decided that he wasn't ready, if they'd broken up and it turned messy and hurtful for them both. But I know Derek. You do too. You know how concerned he is with doing the right thing. You also know Stiles, and how he is when he decides he wants something."

John hummed and his shoulders flexed, but he still didn't look up. 

"Do you remember the spiralizer?" Talia asked. 

John's single bark of laughter echoed in the large parking lot. "God, do I."

Stiles had waged a campaign as fierce as any presidential candidate's, insisting that a high-tech device was exactly what John needed to get some extra vegetables in his diet. It hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped, but the point was that eventually, John had caved, partly to save himself another list of the many advantages of having his zucchini served in strings instead of chunks, and partly because both he and Talia had started to think Stiles might be right. Stiles still brought out the gadget once every holiday break, just to prove it had been worth the small investment, but mostly, it gathered dust. 

"You were adamant that you'd never use it, and that you'd never get one," she reminded him. "He wore you down within two months. Can you imagine how quickly you would've been the proud owner of a spiralizer if you'd actually wanted the thing, but were resisting for some moral reason? That was the situation Derek would have been in. Honestly, we should probably be surprised he lasted as long as he did." 

John gave her a look. "Did you hear Stiles in there? 17, he told me, instead of 16, like it makes a huge difference."

"Well, in his mind, it probably does. To him, it was as important a distinction to make as between 17 and 18." 

John didn't have an immediate response to that. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and eventually muttered, "Still a teenager."

"And already perfectly capable of selling bottled sin to saints."

"And Derek's no saint."

"No, he isn't," she agreed. "But he is a good boy. A good man. And that's partly because of you. You showed him that there are good men out there. He's not naive enough to think that every man is like his father, but having you right in front of his eyes was bound to help. He looks up to you so much, John."

"So much that he lied to my face and helped my son lie, too."

"So much that he couldn't bear to disappoint you, so he suffered in silence for six years. They loved in silence, because they were so afraid that we would react just like this."

John sighed roughly and leaned his elbows and his front against the cruiser again. "Goddamn it, Talia. I just--"

"Quit swearing, John, He doesn't need to get involved in our family drama."

"Sorry," he mumbled. 

"I'm not saying that what they did wasn't a mistake. I'm only saying that it was an easy one to make. Love is a heady thing. It makes people stupid at any age. I can imagine that they would've felt like they were in their own version of Romeo and Juliet."

John snorted. "More like--"

"If you make a Game of Thrones joke, I swear to our Lord Almighty, John, I will not marry you tomorrow." 

John let his head thunk to the roof of the cruiser, but his shoulders were shaking with poorly suppressed mirth. Talia found her own lips twitching, not at the joke he hadn't made, but in gratitude that they were getting somewhere. She stepped closer and rested her cheek on his arm, snaking a hand around his waist. 

"Answer me one thing," she said softly. "What would you have said if Stiles had come to you at 16 and introduced Derek as his boyfriend, instead of his friend. Even if they hadn't slept together, and weren't planning to until Stiles was of age. Would you have reacted any better than you did today?"

To his credit, John was honest with himself as well as her. "No. I probably wouldn't have. I would've told Derek to hit the road before I got to know him." 

She nodded against the stiffly ironed fabric of his shirt. "Stiles would have chosen you over a potential one true love. They wouldn't have bothered to introduce us, so we never would have met." 

He turned in her arms and rested his hands delicately on her shoulders. "Now that'd be a real crime." 

He smiled, small but genuine, and she knew they'd weathered the worst of the storm. They weren't completely out of it yet, but they'd make it. 

"I'm still angry at them," he said, frowning in the direction of the restaurant. 

"That's fine." 

"They made some terrible choices."

"I agree." 

"But I…" He took her hand, brushing his thumb over the simple, smooth band that served as both her engagement and--soon--her wedding ring. (It fit better than the last one had.) "I want my family there with me tomorrow. And I want them there for everything that happens after that." 

She nodded and tightened her grip on his hands. "So what do we do?"

"I guess I'll have to forgive them."

To others, it might have sounded like a cold, begrudging admission, like he was still painting himself the martyr. Talia was not "others" and she could tell that he was relieved. She’d successfully talked him around to giving himself permission to let things return to normal. Or the new normal.

"It's alright to still be disappointed in them," she told him. "They'll have a lot of making up to do to earn our trust back. All you have to do is give them the chance to do that." 

John gave her a smirk, one of the ones that had made her take a chance on him in the first place. "You're so wise, Tally. You should be the Sheriff of this town."

"I don't need to. I'm happy being in charge of this family." 

"So you still want to marry me? Even though it complicates things for Derek and Stiles?"

"Absolutely." She gestured vaguely to the restaurant behind them. "It'd be a lot more complicated to cancel all the things we paid for to make tomorrow run smoothly." 

"You've got that right." He shifted on his feet, looking past where her hand had waved. "Do we have to go back and eat paté and listen to speeches now?"

She inhaled and exhaled a cleansing breath. "Yes. But first, you have to talk to your sons." 

"I thought I might. Stay with me." 

They both turned and faced the doors of the building with an air of soldiers going into battle. It wasn't so dramatic, really, but difficult all the same. They had some hashing out to do, and it wouldn't be easy. But they were ready. 

"To the end," she said. 

_And beyond_ , she thought as John held her arm for support while they headed inside. She and Claudia were both sensible women. They'd figure out a timeshare once they were all up top and past the gates. Michael could fend for himself. That asshole. 

She had someone better to spend eternity with. 

***Epilogue***

The wedding was a sight to behold, with the church decked out in pale blue morning glories and green ribbon. There was much laughter and some tears at the altar as the happy couple said their _I Do's_. 

The reception that followed held friends and family from all over the world. Food was in abundance and the open bar got just as much business as Cousin Eugene joked it would. Cousin Eugene himself had too much peach schnapps and passed out under a table. (He wasn’t really missed.)

After the newlywed’s first dance, Derek took Talia out onto the floor, while Stiles and the Sheriff watched them.

“Congratulations, Stiles,” the Sheriff said. “It’s good to see you so happy.”

“Thanks.” Stiles felt his eyes start to sting again as he hugged his father and he cursed Lydia for convincing him to wear make up for the special day. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Five years,” John said with a shake of his head, like he always did when they talked about the passing of time. “It flew by.”

It hadn’t been perfect, and it hadn’t been easy, and there were days Stiles thought his family would never be the same. But they’d all come out of it stronger and closer, and Stiles was thrilled to share his happiness with his father with no shame and no secrets.

He stood next to his father watching the love of his life until the song ended. Then he went back to his new husband to dance with him again. “Happy?” he asked.

“Very,” Derek said. They didn’t have to hide their kiss, or the way their hands linked, or the perfect fit of their hips as they swayed to the music. No one who mattered minded.

******


End file.
